


Strawberries and Cream

by Minikitkatgirl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food, Hand Jobs, Incompetent baking, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kitchen Sex, M/M, but pornier, the Ineffable British Bake-Off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 13:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20064961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minikitkatgirl/pseuds/Minikitkatgirl
Summary: They never had dinner at home.It was the six hundredth anniversary of the one thousandth time Aziraphale had looked at him, and Crowley wanted to do something special.





	Strawberries and Cream

Title: Strawberries and Cream  
Author: Me  
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley (Ineffable Husbands)  
Rating: R/NC-17  
Warning: Sexual content, language, incompetent baking  
Disclaimer:I own nothing. Characters belong to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, bless their beautiful souls.  
**  
**(**AN: **_Inspired by **[this picture](https://www.instagram.com/p/B0gZFZcpjEo/)**. With thanks and apologies to Georgia Tennant_...)

\----

They never had dinner at home.

It was the six hundredth anniversary of the one thousandth time Aziraphale had _looked _at him, and Crowley wanted to do something special.

He had invited Aziraphale to his flat, which Crowley suddenly realized meant there would have to be actual food in his kitchen. The room went so unused that he often forgot exactly where it was, but he resolutely decided this was going to change.

He’d gotten the idea one day while passing a newsagent on the way to the park for their usual meeting, a picture on the cover of a magazine catching his eye. Crowley normally never noticed such things, but the sinful decadence of the concoction--plump strawberries, swirls of fluffy white cream, and a trail of blood red jam--seemed like something tempted straight out of Hell.

He picked up a copy and thumbed through the pages, brow furrowing as he read the recipe. He wondered how the Heaven he was possibly going to make the damned thing, but was determined to try, for the sake of his angel.

_Yes, this will do_, he thought, glancing up at the shopkeeper and several patrons, all of whom had decided to give him odd looks as he intently read the latest issue of _Women’s Monthly Very Good Housekeepingmopolitan_.

Crowley sneered at them from behind his glasses, and the humans had enough decency to look frightened before quickly going about their business. He tore out the page with the recipe, along with an article that promised “15 New Ways To Please Your Man in Bed With Lots of Orgasmy Orgasms”--_just in case_, Crowley reasoned--and stuffed them into his pocket. Without a word, he slipped the magazine back onto the stand and turned to walk away, his lips twisting into a satisfied smirk.

\----

Something had gone horribly wrong.

Of this, Crowley was sure.

He’d managed the pastry, haphazardly throwing a bunch of ingredients--which he’d miracled in, mind you, because _fuck_ going to the grocer’s and trying to find anything--together in the pans, tossing them into the oven, and they had come out presentably. Even the whipped cream hadn’t proved too much of a challenge, but the infernal strawberry _jam_, of all things, was driving him mad.

Aziraphale walked into the kitchen then, still dabbing his mouth with the crisp linen napkins Crowley had miracled in for the occasion--along with everything else, save for dessert, of course. The angel was so caught up in the remnants of their rich repast that he didn’t notice Crowley wearing nothing but a KISS THE SNAKE apron and socks while scowling at a cake.

“Oh, my dear, that roast was positively sumptuous. And the potatoes, so golden on the outside, yet soft and hot on the inside--”

“Kind of like you, eh?” Crowley couldn’t resist, one eyebrow arching as a flush of red crept over Aziraphale’s cheeks.

“Is that...dessert?” Aziraphale quickly redirected, nodding toward the half-assembled cake.

“Supposed to be. Can’t work out how to get this jam on, though. Most of it’s on me instead. Oh, for _fuck’s sake_...” Crowley cursed God, Satan, and half the Rolling Stones as he waved his hand, trying and failing to shake the substance from his fingers. “It’s so bloody _ssssticky_!”

He started toward the sink and was surprised to feel Aziraphale grab him back.

“What on Earth are you doing, Crowley?”

The demon rolled his yellow eyes, which mostly made them move side to side rather than up and down.

“Well, I thought I’d just lie down and wait for a colony of ants to devour my aspic-coated appendages until I become thoroughly discorporated.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, paying no mind to Crowley’s sarcasm.

“You know there are other ways to remove that jam besides washing it off. I’d expect you to be more creative, honestly.”

He took the comically large spoon from Crowley and set it down on the counter, then reached for Crowley’s jammy hand with both of his, clasping him around the wrist and pulling his arm up to eye level.

“Besides, something so sweet should never go to waste. It must be savored...”

Aziraphale kept his eyes on Crowley, his pink tongue darting out to lick the jam from the demon’s index finger.

“That’ssss--” Crowley hissed, gasping as Aziraphale closed his lips around two fingers, sucking them into his mouth.

“_Angel_...” his cock hardened instantly beneath the apron and he fought to stay upright, his other hand gripping the worktop for balance.

Aziraphale pulled his lips from Crowley’s fingers with a _pop_, the red-haired being nearly whimpering at the loss of sensation.

“Oh, that was delicious. I can just imagine how wonderful the cake will be, my darling, with all the work you’ve done. Look at this _cream_!” Aziraphale nearly squealed, the gourmand joy in his voice tinged with a hint of this-worldly mischief.

He stuck a finger into the bowl and pulled it out with a large glob of whipped cream attached, a sound of satisfaction humming deep in his throat as he tasted it.

“You see, Crowley, you have absolutely everything you need right here. You’ve only got to put it all together. Let me help you, hmm?”

Aziraphale grasped him around his thin hips, and Crowley relaxed into his touch. He turned him to face the counter, Crowley sighing as he felt the fully clothed angel pressing against his bare arse.

“First, we’ll finish the cream...”

He wrapped Crowley’s hand around the spoon in the bowl before covering it with his own, and together they lifted a dollop onto the cake, mounding it in the center.

“Good! Oh, well done indeed. Now, take the knife and spread it across the rest...”

Crowley did as he was told, his grip on the knife suddenly tightening as he felt Aziraphale’s warm hands pushing his thighs apart.

“What are you--”

Aziraphale snaked a hand under Crowley’s apron, wrapping it around the hard cock he found hanging there. He happily began to stroke Crowley’s erection--small, featherlight touches that nearly caused the demon to stab a hole in the cake_._

_Mustn’t make a spare for the Bentley, it’s a bloody confection, not a tyre..._

Crowley fought to collect himself, shakily covering the rest of the cake layer with the cream. He attempted to reach back and urge Aziraphale to quicken his motions, but found himself immobile, pinned to the counter by the blond’s firm body.

Aziraphale kept up the languid pace on Crowley’s cock, his other hand reaching for the bowl of strawberries that were to be next.

“Have you ever tasted a perfectly ripe strawberry, dear boy?”

Crowley was momentarily rendered breathless (more so than usual, anyway) by the sudden rough squeeze Aziraphale gave to his cock, finally summoning enough air to his lungs to grunt out a response.

“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

“More’s the pity. _Pleasure _is precisely the right word,” Aziraphale purred, taking a large piece of berry from the bowl. “Here...”

He placed the berry between his lips, two fingers pressing under Crowley’s chin to tilt his head back into a kiss. They ate the berry from each other’s mouths, juice dribbling between their lips as the kiss deepened. Crowley moaned, hips thrusting forward into Aziraphale’s hand as his back arched toward the kiss, the sweetness of Aziraphale’s tongue mingling with the flavor of the fruit. He decided right then that the strawberry was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

Of course, his angel could have kiss-fed him a tray of albatross and jaguar earlobes and he would have immediately likened it to ambrosia.

“Mmh. _Scrumptious_.”

Aziraphale’s voice had dipped lower, Crowley noted, and he silently thrilled at the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one enjoying what they were doing.

“And lest we forget...” Aziraphale gingerly lifted the bowl of jam, plucking the spoon from its resting place. “I’ll handle this bit, my dear, since it seems to have troubled you so--”

At that moment, he let out what Crowley was sure was an exaggerated gasp, which was directly followed by a cold sensation on his neck.

“Oh no! I seemed to have dropped a bit of jam on you. How very clumsy of me, I do apologize...” Aziraphale said, sounding not the least bit apologetic.  
  
“Well for Go--Sat--_somebody’s _sake, get it off me! Off! I can’t stand how sssti--OH_hhh_...”

Aziraphale pushed Crowley face down on the worktop, draping his body on top of the demon’s, tongue sliding over the jam on his neck as he sped up his hand on Crowley’s cock, jerking him off roughly.

“Oh _fuck_, yesyesyes, _please_, Aziraphale...” Crowley was panting, teeth clenching as ribbons of pleasure raced up his spine. 

“Mmmh...” Aziraphale closed his mouth over Crowley’s skin, worrying bruises into the flesh that made him half-consider walking stark naked through St. James Park in broad daylight, just to rub the markings in the faces of both Heaven and Hell.

Aziraphale dragged his lips lower, licking up the droplets of jam that had slid down to Crowley’s shoulder. He scratched a nail over the thin blade, and just below that, the faint line marking the very spot where Crowley’s wings would emerge. He felt the demon’s breath hitch in his chest, a shudder wracking his body as he planted a kiss there.

“Oh, Crowley...you taste _divine_...” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley could feel the very threads of his being come unraveled as Aziraphale tongued what he’d taken to calling the God Spot--_G-spot_, for short--a term Crowley had proudly coined eons before that German physician fellow came along in the twentieth century and rudely got all the credit.

The strokes on his cock were unrelenting, and he blindly jerked a hand backward, burying it in Aziraphale’s luxuriously soft hair.  
  
“_Hnnghh_...angel, I can’t...I’m going to...”

Aziraphale sinking his teeth into _that _spot was all it took, and Crowley came with a shout, his cock spasming with release as he spent himself all over Aziraphale’s hand.

The angel followed suit seconds later, hips pressing hard into the lithe body in front of him, and Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s orgasm right through his trousers. 

They both collapsed then, bodies tangled and held fast together, a mess of sweat and stickiness between them.

“Mmghj...” Crowley said something that Aziraphale couldn’t quite hear.

“What was that, love?” he asked, bringing a hand up to twine his and Crowley’s fingers together.

“I _said_, I’m going to need a new apron. S’ruined now, no thanks to you.” He yelped as Aziraphale gave his bottom a light slap, then waved a hand, miracling both of them and the garment clean, leaving Crowley naked--except for the socks--beneath him.

“There. All done.”

Crowley looked up and saw the freshly-laundered apron hanging neatly on a wall peg inside the kitchen door. He slid out of Aziraphale’s grasp and managed to maneuver himself around so that they were face to face, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s back and pulling him close.

“Thank you, angel.”

The kiss that time was less frantic, slow, and full of passion. Crowley sighed what passed for happily, turning his head to one side to rest in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the cake still sitting there and now looking slightly worse for the wear.

“Oh, bugger...we haven’t had the dessert yet.”

Aziraphale chuckled softly against him, and Crowley fought back a smile.

“Well, perhaps we have...”

“I do believe I would most enjoy a second helping, my dear. If you don’t mind, that is...”

Crowley waved his hand, a fresh bowl of strawberries and whipped cream instantly appearing beside them. He switched their positions and Aziraphale gasped as he found himself flat on his back.

Above him, Crowley smirked, comically large jam spoon in hand.

“This time, _I _get to do the licking...”

  
  
THE END


End file.
